


Once More With Feeling

by zillah37 (visionshadows)



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on a TV show, M/M, Mild Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-10
Updated: 2013-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:25:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visionshadows/pseuds/zillah37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based loosely on the television show The Pretender starring Michael T. Weiss. This story was part of the Slash Across America challenge by SpikelessSpike for the state of New Hampshire. </p><p>Mr. Kirkpatrick chases his Pretender.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Grudge

 

 

Mr. Kirkpatrick drummed his fingers against the countertop as he waited for the young woman holding his car keys hostage to pay attention to him. Finally with a bright smile she turned back to him.

"Here are your keys, sir. The vehicle is located in A3. Thank you for using Enterprise."

Mr. Kirkpatrick grunted his response, snatching the car keys from her. He practically stalked out of the office, his briefcase bumping against his hip.

He slid into the front seat of the Explorer, cursing Ford under his breath. At least he had gotten an SUV this time. His ass still remembered traveling across most of Arizona in a Geo Metro.

That was yet another good fucking reason to drag JC back to Delaware, back to The Center where he belonged.

The number of good fucking reasons to drag JC back to Delaware was getting larger and Mr. Kirkpatrick kept each of them in a notebook hidden in the fake bottom of his briefcase.

Mr. Kirkpatrick never forgot anything, least of all anything JC had done to him.  
  
---  
  
 


	2. Ions

 

The small motel room in Lebanon, New Hampshire had two double beds just like he wanted. Already one bed was covered with equipment and papers. There was a map tacked to the wall; JC's most recent locations marked with pink highlighter.

This was their routine, Mr. Kirkpatrick thought as he ate bad Chinese food from the container as he studied the map. He liked their routine though he'd never admit it out loud.

The recent pattern JC was holding didn't make much sense to him. He wasn't following any real pattern, just hopping around the country.

To Mr. Kirkpatrick he was getting sloppy.

Mr. Kirkpatrick leaned over and hit a button on the laptop. He chewed on a piece of beef as he waited for the video to start playing.

JC's face filled the screen and like always the sight of it made Mr. Kirkpatrick shivery both from anger and lust. He hated JC so much.

"Mr. Kirkpatrick," Video JC said with a smile. "I hope this message finds you in good spirits. I'm sorry that we missed each other in New Hope. I trust you found the gift I left for you."

Mr. Kirkpatrick looked over at the sweatshirt with a silkscreen of the state of New Hampshire on it. Yeah, he got JC's gift.

Video JC leaned over and picked up a newspaper. Mr. Kirkpatrick had the same paper sitting next to him.

"In Lebanon, NH today the weather is cold and crisp around 36 degrees. Perfect weather for skiing. Do you ski, Mr. Kirkpatrick?" Video JC actually paused then and Mr. Kirkpatrick grunted a yes even though JC couldn't see him. "I've never skied myself. I never got a chance to in The Center."

"My heart bleeds for you," Mr. Kirkpatrick mumbled around a mouthful of fried rice. "Keep talking."

Video JC turned to him, his blue eyes soft. "Goodbye, Mr. Kirkpatrick."

Mr. Kirkpatrick quickly leaned forward and paused the video, JC's face frozen on the screen. He would need a visual to jerk off to later.

 


	3. Useful Idiot

 

Mr. Kirkpatrick peeled a twenty off the wad of cash in his pocket, handing it to the cashier, a bored looking girl of maybe seventeen if he was lucky. He barely gave her a second glance as he took the cigarettes and bag of sodas from her.

Food could be found along the way. Food was not a necessity while tracking JC. Nicotine and caffeine, however, were.

He opened a can of Coke and put it in the cup holder next to him, lighting a cigarette before dialing a familiar phone number.

"Bass."

Mr. Kirkpatrick smirked a little at his reflection. "Bass. I'm in New Hampshire."

"What the hell is he doing there?"

"Skiing," Mr. Kirkpatrick said dead-pan. "Get Joey on it and figure out the closest ski ranges to Lebanon, New Hampshire where I am."

"How much of a radius?"

"We're talking JC here," Mr. Kirkpatrick paused. "200 miles. For now. Have Joey pull up everything for the state and send them to me as well."

"Got it," Mr. Kirkpatrick could hear Bass typing. "I'll have that for you in about fifteen minutes."

"Make it ten."

Mr. Kirkpatrick hung up the phone and leaned back against the comfortable headrest. He watched the front of the store carefully as he smoked his cigarette and drank his Coke.

Exactly ten minutes later he connected the computer and downloaded all the information Joey had gathered.

He put the car in drive and headed towards the highway.  
  
---  
  
 


	4. Hush

 

JC's trail was cold already and that upset Mr. Kirkpatrick. He passed around the pictures he had of JC and told the usual story of how he was a mentally ill individual and he was just trying to bring him home where he was safe.

Mr. Kirkpatrick sat in the car, a cigarette in his hand as he stared out the windshield. He had to get into JC's mind, had to figure out where the hell JC was in the state of New Hampshire.

He knew that JC wouldn't leave the state without telling him.

This was their routine and JC liked their routine. He liked this game.

The phone sitting on the seat next to Mr. Kirkpatrick rang and he looked at it for a moment before picking it up.

"Kirkpatrick."

No one answered for a moment and Mr. Kirkpatrick could hear breathing.

"JC?"

No answer.

"You know I can trace this."

"I'm counting on it."

Mr. Kirkpatrick didn't say anything, just waited and listened to JC breath for exactly 38 seconds before JC hung up. He immediately called Bass and traced the number on his phone.

The trail had just warmed up.  
  
---  
  
 


	5. Cold and Ugly

  
 

The lodge was not JC's normal MO. When Mr. Kirkpatrick drove up to it, the Explorer dirty and out of gas, he almost cursed at the perfect exterior. JC wasn't going to make this easy.

The man at the desk didn't even flinch when Mr. Kirkpatrick asked for the key to room 23. JC must have said that he was coming and it was okay for him to have a key.

Mr. Kirkpatrick kept one hand on his gun as he walked down the hallway to the room JC had rented. He didn't trust anyone, least of all JC.

The door opened and the room was half lit, the chair and bed hidden in the shadows. The first thing he did was turn on all the lights.

"JC?"

No answer. He wasn't surprised. JC never made anything this easy. Illuminated by a lamp was a note. Mr. Kirkpatrick picked it up, unfolding it and reading JC's careful handwriting.

_Mr. K -_

_Put on the snow pants in the closet. Walk out back 500 feet._

_JC_

Mr. Kirkpatrick opened the closet and saw the snow pants hanging there. The air was ice cold and there was a lot of snow on the ground. The last thing he wanted to do was go outside.

But he put them on, bundling himself up, his gun carefully tucked in the leg of the pants between his boot and pant.

Just three weeks before they had been in Arizona, sweating their balls off while JC pretended to be a scientist at a nuclear facility; the same facility his father had worked out of many years before.

Mr. Kirkpatrick didn't like JC getting that close to the truth so New Hampshire was okay with him for now.

There was a flashlight next to the note and he picked it up, hefting it a little in his gloved hand.

It was dark and cold outside, night hiding the rest of the world. He trudged through the snow exactly 500 feet from the back door, his flashlight the only spot of light ahead of him.

Behind him was warmth and light. Ahead of him was JC.

A stick cracked to his right and he swung the light in that direction.

JC stood in the beam, looking at Mr. Kirkpatrick defiantly.

Neither of them said anything; just looking at each other.

"I went skiing," said JC finally.

"Did you like it?" Mr. Kirkpatrick took a step towards him.

"I fell."

"Nice to know that you aren't perfect."

"Someone pushed me."

Mr. Kirkpatrick snorted. "You mean someone out there doesn't like you?"

"You don't like me."

Mr. Kirkpatrick stepped closer again. "It's my job not to like you."

"It's your job to trap me and take me back like I'm some sort of animal," JC took a step back. "Why won't you just forget about me?"

"I can't."

A small smile crossed JC's face and he licked his lips despite the cold and the wind. "Is that because it's your job?"

Mr. Kirkpatrick shook his head. "That's because of you."

"I thought so," JC said before pressing his lips to Mr. Kirkpatrick's, one gloved hand cupping his cheek.

Mr. Kirkpatrick squeezed his eyes shut to suppress the hate and concentrate on the lust. He could hate again tomorrow.  
  
---  
  
 


	6. Sweat

 

The room was still lit when they got back. Mr. Kirkpatrick preferred the light. It was harder for someone to sneak up on him in the artificial glow of the lamps.

JC preferred the dark. It was easier to hide in the dark. He spent his life hiding, cloaking himself in the dark and in others' skin.

The lights went out and JC lit candles as Mr. Kirkpatrick called Bass reporting that JC had moved on and he would be following him tomorrow. Tonight he needed to sleep.

The phone call completed, Mr. Kirkpatrick turned to JC, his expression calm. JC was moving around the room slowly, lit by the soft glow of candles. He looked beautiful and Mr. Kirkpatrick found the hate dissipating.

"You used to come up with better excuses."

"You used to be harder to find."

JC nodded a little before pulling off his sweater and tossing it aside. Routine dictated that they get naked now.

Mr. Kirkpatrick enjoyed their routine.

"Who bottomed last time?" asked JC, knowing full well the answer. His pants joined the pile of mixed clothing, both his and Mr. Kirkpatrick's.

"You know that you did," said Mr. Kirkpatrick. "Don't try and steal my turn."

JC smirked. "Can't blame me for trying."

"I'll take that as a compliment on my technique." Mr. Kirkpatrick stepped closer, a hand wrapping around JC's thin wrist, tugging him roughly to him. JC went easily.

"It was," said JC before tilting his head down to kiss Mr. Kirkpatrick, his body flush against him. They kissed roughly, battling for control as always. They both knew that JC would yield first, his body becoming pliant under Mr. Kirkpatrick's touch.

JC moaned out the change, his body becoming liquid and his legs trembling as they pushed against Mr. Kirkpatrick's hips. Mr. Kirkpatrick led him to the bed, his hands circling JC's waist.

This was the only time Mr. Kirkpatrick ever had any control over JC and soon JC would take it away again. Even when JC bottomed, he rode him, refusing to be under Mr. Kirkpatrick.

It was something they both accepted now.

Mr. Kirkpatrick moaned harshly as JC's fingers skated over his ribs, tugging on pale nipples before pushing him backwards on the bed. The control had switched again.

They didn't talk anymore as JC climbed over top of him, kissing Mr. Kirkpatrick hotly, his tongue darting lewdly into his mouth.

"Want me to suck you first?" JC breathed into Mr. Kirkpatrick's mouth as he spoke, his hands already making a downward trail over his chest and ribs.

"Yeah," Mr. Kirkpatrick pushed him downwards roughly. He knew that JC could take pain, relished in it when it was delivered by Mr. Kirkpatrick's hands. But he never took it too far. He couldn't bring himself to really hurt JC even if he did want him dead.

JC licked around the crown, pressing his tongue flatly against the head which earned him another shove. Mr. Kirkpatrick didn't like teasing. JC liked to tease more because of that.

JC nipped at the soft flesh of Mr. Kirkpatrick's stomach, earning a hiss of gratitude. Time to go about his business.

Mr. Kirkpatrick shut his eyes as his dick slipped into the softness of JC's mouth. The first time JC had offered this he had snipped at him, saying that he wouldn't let his dick be bitten off that easily.

JC had just laughed and pushed him backwards, tying him up so he wouldn't struggle. Mr. Kirkpatrick had never turned a blowjob down after that.

Mr. Kirkpatrick pushed up into the warm wetness of JC's mouth, his eyes still closed like always. It was a sacrifice he made, not watching JC blow him. He worried about the hate as his fingers tangled in long hair, tugging hard.

JC groaned and bit lightly, causing Mr. Kirkpatrick to jump and call him a little bitch. He smiled around the dick in his mouth and pulled off, looking up at him.

"Open your damn eyes."

Mr. Kirkpatrick obeyed and looked at JC with dark eyes, glittering in the light of the candles.

"Is this better?"

JC slapped his hip lightly and clambered back up the bed, straddling Mr. Kirkpatrick's chest, his dick jutting out from his body.

"Why do you keep doing this?" asked JC, leaning over to look directly in Mr. Kirkpatrick's eyes.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Mr. Kirkpatrick shot back. "You don't even like me."

"Because it gives me the power," JC put his hand over Mr. Kirkpatrick's mouth. "Now shut up so I can fuck you."

Mr. Kirkpatrick licked the palm of JC's hand, forcing him to pull away. "You make it sound like a chore."

"I've had worse chores," JC said putting his hand over Mr. Kirkpatrick's mouth again. "If you promise to stay quiet, I'll take my hand away."

Mr. Kirkpatrick nodded, his nostrils flaring in obstenation. JC pulled his hand away and climbed off the bed, heading into the bathroom to get his bag. Mr. Kirkpatrick sighed and brought his hand down to his dick, palming it in frustration. He could come before JC returned but that would piss him off even more and then he wouldn't get the sex out of this experience.

JC tossed the bag on the bed, batting away Mr. Kirkpatrick's hand. He didn't say anything as he handcuffed Mr. Kirkpatrick's arms to the headboard.

Mr. Kirkpatrick flexed against the cuffs, glaring up at JC. This wasn't part of the game.

"Don't. Talk." JC reminded him, tying a blindfold around Mr. Kirkpatrick's eyes. This caused Mr. Kirkpatrick to let out a low growl and push up against the cuffs again. "You'll hurt yourself."

Mr. Kirkpatrick fell silent, waiting impatiently for whatever JC had planned, hoping that it wasn't leave him handcuffed, blindfolded, and naked on a bed in a lodge in the middle of nowhere New Hampshire. Bass would never let him live it down.

The first touch was light and fluttery and Mr. Kirkpatrick gasped involuntarily. A low chuckle came from JC and lips followed the path his fingers were making down his body.

"You like this?" JC twisted his nipple, causing Mr. Kirkpatrick to jump. He nodded quickly, knowing that he would have to answer without words from now on.

"Good," JC murmured and Mr. Kirkpatrick waited with tense anticipation of what was next, wondering how long this was going to be, how long they were going to tease each other.

Even tied up, he was a tease for JC.

Mr. Kirkpatrick felt his legs get pushed up and spread apart by cool, gentle hands. He pushed back against the wet tongue squirming it's way inside of him and thanked God when he saw stars.

Another quick swipe of tongue and a slick finger entered him, causing Mr. Kirkpatrick to moan unconsciously, his own tongue sliding out to lick his dry lips.

Quickly, too quickly almost, he felt a dick press up against him, pushing inside and then he was all-too aware that JC was overtop of him, warm, wet breath against his neck, his own knees up by JC's ears.

Fumbling fingers pulled the blindfold off and Mr. Kirkpatrick blinked quickly, surprised by the removal of the blindfold. His shoulders ached and he stared into JC's blue eyes, thinking how much he was supposed to hate him.

"Hey," JC mumbled, his voice roughened as he pushed in, causing Mr. Kirkpatrick to yelp happily and squirm backwards, pulling at the handcuffs, the metal biting into his skin. "Careful."

"Fuck me," Mr. Kirkpatrick gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulders and wrists. "Just fucking do it."

JC didn't answer him, just shut those blue eyes and thrust harder into him, his hips moving fluidly.

The room was quiet for the most part, harsh breathing and the slap of skin on skin the only sounds.

When he came, Mr. Kirkpatrick arched up, spasming around JC's dick and letting out a low cry. He jumped again, his body still shivering when JC's teeth sank into his thigh as he came, not making a sound.

"Bitch," Mr. Kirkpatrick mumbled as JC moved away, pulling out. He stretched out his legs and waited patiently for JC to unlock the handcuffs.

"You know you love it," said JC, rubbing his fingers over the tender skin around Mr. Kirkpatrick's wrists. "You know you love me."

Mr. Kirkpatrick grunted a little, rolling his shoulders. "I do but you're still a bitch."

JC tilted Mr. Kirkpatrick's chin up and captured his lips, kissing him deeply and tenderly. Mr. Kirkpatrick kissed him back, eyes closed, thinking about love instead of hate.

JC's legs and arms were wrapped around Mr. Kirkpatrick and he slept with one hand on the back of JC's neck, his fingers tangled in JC's long hair. He didn't want to sleep, wanted to stay up and watch JC.

It was harder to watch JC leave though, so he slept, knowing that when he woke up, JC would be gone again.  
  
---  
  
 


	7. Crawl Away

 

Mr. Kirkpatrick woke up slowly, his shoulders sore and the rest of his body aching from the night before. The sun was streaming through the windows and he knew without opening his eyes that JC was gone.

The room still smelled like him and when Mr. Kirkpatrick rolled onto his back and finally opened his eyes, looking to his left, he could still see the indent of JC's head in the pillow.

He sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist and looked around, searching for the clue that JC must have left him. He had to go somewhere.

But there was nothing, no sign of where JC was going next. This worried Mr. Kirkpatrick but he knew enough to trust that JC would lead him to his whereabouts.

A quick call to Bass confirmed that JC hadn't sent anything to the Center either and Mr. Kirkpatrick let it go for now, getting out of bed. He stretched, feeling his back pop and his neck crack. He was getting old.

The bathroom was small but clean and tidy. Sitting in plain view on the sink counter was a brown ponytail and a pair of scissors.

Mr. Kirkpatrick picked it up, looking at it sadly for a moment. At least he knew that JC would have short hair the next time he saw him. He put it back down and showered quickly, knowing that he had to check out and move on even though he didn't know where he was going next.

Mr. Kirkpatrick dressed quickly after patting antibiotic cream on the bite JC left on his thigh, letting his hair dry in messy, soft spikes. One more search of the room revealed nothing more besides the ponytail.

He picked up the briefcase, removing the false bottom. Inside was his notebook and all the others items JC had left behind over the past two years. He carefully set the ponytail next to the watch thinking that he would have to get a plastic bag to keep it in when he got a chance. He hated losing anything JC left for him.

The room key JC had used was sitting on the dresser and Mr. Kirkpatrick picked it up along with his own, slipping them in his pocket. He looked at the room once more, committing it to memory along with countless others along the way.

The desk clerk watched him as he walked over, digging in his wallet for his credit card. He set the keys on the desk without a word.

"You're all paid up," the clerk said to him. "The gentleman who left earlier paid the bill. He also left you this and asked me to tell you that he'd see you in Akron."

The clerk handed him a floppy disk. Mr. Kirkpatrick took it, nodding his thanks. He picked up his bags again and headed back outside to the Explorer. The dirt all over it made him uncomfortable and he knew that he would have to find a gas station and a car wash soon.

Mr. Kirkpatrick looked at the disk for a moment before tucking it into his coat pocket and starting the car.

He'd call Bass later and have him purchase a plane ticket to Akron.  
  
---  
  
 


	8. Mantra (The Flashback)

 

 

_The room they were in was damp and small, only one door leading out. Mr. Kirkpatrick had cornered him in there, amazed that JC had messed up this easily. He prided himself on never messing up like this._

_They both had their guns pointed at each other; neither of them afraid of death._

_Mr. Kirkpatrick had finally caught him. Six months of chasing him and he was finally alone with a gun pointed at JC's head. He couldn't wait to bring him back._

_"Want to know the worst part about being free?" asked JC, his voice and gun steady._

_"I don't really care." Mr. Kirkpatrick tightened his grip on the gun wondering how long this standoff would last; if he'd actually have to shoot JC to bring him back alive._

_"I learned what all those **simulations** you bastards had me do were used for," JC spat out angrily, not caring that Mr. Kirkpatrick didn't want to hear. "It's sick what I've caused just by doing what I was told, by trying to be a good Pretender for all of you." _

_"Then come back with me," Mr. Kirkpatrick said evenly. "I'll protect you from the truth."_

_"Protect me?" JC laughed harshly. "No thank you. I don't need protection. I'd rather know the truth."_

_"I have to chase you," said Mr. Kirkpatrick, lowering the gun slowly, suddenly not wanting the game to be over. "You know that, right?"_

_JC nodded slowly, his forehead wrinkling in confusion._

_"Get out of here," Mr. Kirkpatrick gestured at the door with his gun, all the while screaming at himself for doing this. "Run."_

_JC moved cautiously, lowering his own gun. "Why are you doing this?"_

_Mr. Kirkpatrick bit his lip, forcing himself to answer truthfully. "I don't want to go back either."_

_JC looked at him for a long time, making Mr. Kirkpatrick shift uncomfortably, rethinking his decision the whole time._

_Finally JC leaned in, pressing his lips to Mr. Kirkpatrick's gently. He pulled back, brushing his thumb over Mr. Kirkpatrick's cheek before disappearing._

_Mr. Kirkpatrick touched his lower lip, smiling a little. The game was on again._

_God, how he hated JC._  
  
---  
  
 


End file.
